


From Daniel James Howell

by thebestworstthing (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Characters, Break Up, Comfort, Completed, Crying, DanAndPhilGAMES, Friends to Lovers, Hickies, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Letter, M/M, Making Out, Mentions of Sex, One Night Stand, Panic Attacks, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Set in the future, Swearing, Unrequited Love, breakdowns, but not really, high key out of character but oh well, neck kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thebestworstthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Technically, you left on the Tuesday, but it was a Wednesday when i woke up and discovered you were gone."</p><p>Phil leaves and Dan writes a letter to him one year later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this could be considered a late Christmas present? Maybe? 
> 
> I am in no way associated with either dan or phil and i am not claiming any of this is true 
> 
> Also this is based on a variety of quotes I've seen and the concept is based on the book "To All The Boys I've Loved Before" which is amazing 10/10 would recommend

“Dear Phillip Michael Lester, 

Technically, you left on the Tuesday, but it was a Wednesday when i woke up and discovered you were gone. Just like that you left and never came back. I was so worried at first, i thought that you had been kidnapped or something. Then I noticed that everything of yours was gone. There was no sign that anyone called Phil Lester had lived in the flat at all. I think you took a part of me with you when you left, because I was never the same after. The hickies from that night weren’t even faded when you decided to leave.

I was sad at first; I blamed myself for you leaving. Why wasn’t I good enough for you? If only i had been more helpful, nicer towards you, you wouldn’t have left. It was ridiculous logic, I guess a part of me always knew you would leave and I wouldn’t be able to prevent it. I remember struggling to function like an actual human being, basic tasks like showering and cooking were suddenly impossible. Like trying to climb Mount Everest without any legs. Or trying to breathe without any lungs.

Everything in the flat reminded me of you. All of your stuff was gone, but I still saw you everywhere. The counter where I often found you stealing my cereal, the sofa where we spent long days watching meaningless TV and just enjoying each other’s company. It all served as a constant remind of you leaving me and it hurt.

Without Louise, I don’t know what I would have done. She became my rock, a solid thing to rely on when things got difficult. I needed that. Louise told me that you were just as messed up about this whole thing as I was. I think she thought it would make me feel better, but it only made me feel worse. 

After the initial depression, I moved on to anger. How dare you leave me? It took me longer to pass this stage then I’d like to admit. Months passed where the mere mention of your name would cause me to blow up. However, despite all the frustration and annoyance, I could never hate you. Not fully. I think everyone saw straight though the façade, but i didn’t stop broadcasting it to anyone who would listen. It became a face I’d put on whenever I left the house. Pretending I hated you was easier then facing the reality that you left and broke my heart. It avoided the awkward questions from well-meaning friends who don’t know when to shut up. 

I only just started to get better recently. I started posting videos on YouTube again a few months ago. The fans noticed my four month absence and the change of scenery in your videos. They figured something had happened between us. I didn’t bother giving an excuse; I just didn’t tell them what happened. Whenever people asked me, I’d either ignore them or change the topic. It worked for a while as well, but eventually people caught on and I had to tell them something. I made something up about family issues and although none of them believed me, they stopped asking.

I still couldn’t watch your videos without crying. You looked and sounded so happy in them Phil, I wondered how on earth you managed to not fall apart on camera. 

I watched your live show once. You talked about an app you’d started playing and some things you had bought when you went shopping that week. In the background I could see a photograph of the two of us from the tour. 

That was the first night I got properly drunk. I know it’s not a healthy coping method, but for that night, it worked. It numbed the pain and suppressed the memories that seeing the picture brought back. It’s amazing the effect a few pixels can have isn’t it? 

The next morning, when I woke up slumped on the couch with my head pounding and stomach churning, I told myself it would be the last time I cried over you. 

Honestly, how could I have ever expected myself to stick to that? 

The next day you uploaded a video talking about your favourite memories. I was mentioned multiple times. I didn’t even finish watching the video before i was throwing up into the toilet. The cool porcelain the only thing keeping me grounded against the oncoming panic attack.

The video proved that I still meant something to you. That you cared about me. All of a sudden, the character that I’d built you up to be in my head, the projection of all of my insecurities, crumbled. 

I wasn’t sure which was worst; you not caring, or you missing me as much as I missed you.

I cried again that night. Seeing the video uncovered memories that I had forgotten about. From the happier days, before we got big and everything went to shit.

I promised myself i wouldn’t cry over you again, but most people relapse at some point, right? 

It’s been just over a year since you left and it still hurts that you left. I’m starting to realise that loving someone never stops hurting, you just learn to live with the pain. 

I still don’t know why you left, what happened? Was I not good enough for you? Was it a mistake? 

That night was one of the best things in my life. I wondered how on earth we had survived living together for three years without even considering touching each other like this. I’m not sure that I will ever forget the feel of your lips against my skin, or the sound of your voice as you moaned my name. I’m not sure I ever want to. 

You avoided me over the next two days. Only subtly, enough so that if I wasn’t paying attention I wouldn’t have noticed. It was shown in the times I’d catch you staring at me, only to look away the second I turned my head, the times you’d reach out to touch me in some way, then you’d withdraw your hand like I’d hurt you. You thought I wouldn’t see, but I did. I cried myself to sleep that night, wondering where I went wrong.

I should have known something like that would happen. It always does. As a natural part of my life, good things don’t happen without bad things following suit. You were one of the best things, so I should have known something terrible would happen. It’s just logic really. 

When it comes down to it, I guess I can say that I don’t really blame anyone for it anymore. We can’t change what happened, and even if we never cross paths again, it doesn’t matter. You were a big part of my life and I can’t change that, but I can learn from it. I can take the things you taught me and apply them to my current life. 

You taught me how to love when the world told me I shouldn’t. How to have hope when everything seems pointless, how to learn to accept myself. Before I met you, I was a lost teenager stuck in an endless spiral of self-hatred, you changed that. I don’t think I ever thanked you for it. 

I think I fell in love with you somewhere along the way. I fell in love with your bad jokes and the way your hair looked under the light. I loved the ginger roots and your obsession with house plants. I loved the best and the worst things about you, the things that made you you. Little personality quirks that captured my attention and demanded my affection. I promise you, I didn’t mean to fall for you, and if I could take it back, I would. If only to lessen the pain that you moving out caused me.

The more I think about it, the more I realise I loved you ever since we met, before then even. When I was just a fan. 

I’m writing in past tense, but I think I still love you. You don’t deserve it and I hate myself for it, but I still care about you. Just as much as I did when you left. 

People change, you have and I will, but you will always be a part of my life. I’m sure of it. Even if you’re not there in person, you will be there in spirit. Shown though the clutter I keep scattered around our the flat because it reminds me of you, not enough to hurt only to serve as a reminder of what I lost. Shown through the mannerisms I adopted from you, phrases and body language I’ve subconsciously imitated during my infatuation. 

Honestly, I wouldn’t change anything. You made me happier then I’ve ever been and I guess this is just the part where I learn how to be strong without someone else helping me. Learning how to live without you is a lot harder than learning how to live with you. 

I know that realistically, you’re never going to see this. Yet I still feel like I’m talking directly to you. My therapist said that writing down my emotions would help me feel better, so I decided to write a letter addressed to you that I’m going to put way in a box in the bottom of my wardrobe and (hopefully) forget about. 

But I do understand what she (my therapist) meant, writing this letter is the form of closure I never got from you, Phil. Maybe one day I’ll get to hear things from your side, maybe there is a valid reason for why you left. Maybe one day ten years into the future I’ll wake you next to you and remember writing this letter and laugh about how naive I was. Maybe in the future everything will be okay.

But I doubt it. 

I love you Phil, even if you never love me back.

From Daniel James Howell.” 

~~~~

Dan finishes writing and puts down the pen. His had aches from the exertion and he stretches his fingers as they begin to cramp. The sheets of paper in front of him lay haphazardly, there are seven in total and he gathers them up and puts them in order. He carefully folds them in half and places the sheets in a plain white envelope. He seals it shut and writes both his current and Phil’s new address on the front, before placing the letter at the bottom of a hatbox he received to contain a present one birthday in his early 20s. The box is just long enough to fit the letter in and Dan signs in relief, glad he doesn’t have to find a different one to hold the letter. 

As he stands up from the desk, he breathes a sigh of relief. Its weird how over a year later and the only way he’s found closure is through writing down all of his thoughts. It felt good to share these things, the thoughts he had kept to himself for so long are outside now. There is actual physical evidence of them. The idea scares him a bit, anyone could read them if they get out. 

Key word: if. This letter is for his eyes only. Nobody else will ever see it. 

When he places the box at the base of his wardrobe, he glimpses the shiny frame of a photograph. It’s of him and Phil from when they went to the Star Wars premiere in London, only a few weeks before everything fell apart. 

He smiles, and everything is bittersweet. The memory of the event far outweighs the grief over what happened since then. 

When looking at the photo, Dan realises this is the first time he’s seen a picture of him and Phil without almost breaking down. 

He calls it progress. Even if he hasn’t come very far


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this mostly at 3am last night so if there are any mistakes please let me know.

“Dear Phil,

It’s been three days since I wrote the last letter. I’ve felt better since then. I guess it’s a healthier way to release emotions than binge drinking or wallowing in self-pity. 

You uploaded a video on your channel two days ago, I chose to scroll through the comments instead of actually paying attention to the video and I noticed that the phans keep asking you about PINOF 8. I wonder if they know that we haven’t spoken at all since only a few days after PINOF 7. I was inspired to rewatch them, I know it’s stupid and I’m living in the past but I miss you. You’re gone now though. And I don’t think you’re ever coming back (as much as I wish you would).

I wonder if it’s for the better that you left, maybe if you would have stayed something worse would have happened. I can’t imagine much worse than this though. 

Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy. 

I uploaded a new video on my channel yesterday. I keep getting notifications from fans asking me if I’m okay and I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t want to lie to them. Did you see the video? I wonder if you enjoyed it. If it was good quality. I miss having someone who would check my videos before I posted them, pointing out the unfunny bits and giving recommendations on how i could improve it. I don’t think the video was my best, but maybe I’m just being overly self critical. 

I hope you saw the video. I hope it makes you think that I’m getting over you, even though I’m not.

When you left, there were so many things I wanted to say to you. I wonder if I’ll ever get an answer from you. 

I miss having someone to tell everything to. Not my shitty emotional baggage, but the little things. What I ate for lunch, what I’m watching on TV. I miss the three hour long breakfasts and watching anime together in the morning. I miss what we had. 

I want to tell you about every single thing that happens in my day, or even better, have you there with me so you know what happens. 

Someone once told me that the first step to getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are. That’s part of recovery isn’t it? Deciding you want to recover? I think that’s what the first letter was, me deciding that I want to get over you. 

(I wish i didn’t have to get over you. I wish you were still here.)

No matter how much I wish every time the clock turns 11:11, or how often i blow dandelion seeds or eyelashes. No matter how hard I think of you whenever I blow out candles, you’re not coming back. Sometimes no matter how hard you try, it’s just not going to happen. 

It doesn’t stop me trying though.

My biggest regret is not telling you just how much I loved you. You knew how I felt about you platonically, but you didn’t know how my heart skipped a beat every time you glanced over at me. How every time you touched me, even just a gentle brush of our hands, it sent a shiver of electricity shooting through my body. I loved you so much and it scares me to even consider that was why you left.

I was good at hiding it though, or at least I thought so. Louise figured it out within a week of you leaving. But she’s smart like that; she can probably sense these things.

After that night, I wondered whether you loved me back. The way you acted that night was certainly enough to convince me so, but the way you acted after had me thinking otherwise. Did that night mean anything to you? Or was it all a façade?

I’m probably never going to get an answer to this but I wish I would because it’s eating me up inside. Not during everyday life, but when the clock turns from 3:59am to 4:00 and I’ve never felt as empty in my life and I can’t stop crying because all I can think is why did he leave me? 

We were Dan and Phil. danandphilshop.com, DanAndPhilGames, phan. Now we’re danisnotonfire and AmazingPhil. Two separate people living separate lives who once meant the world to each other. 

I don’t think I’m ever going to get over that. 

Louise is coming over soon to help me clear out the flat. To sort everything out. I don’t even think any of it is yours, but there is the stuff I associate with you. It’s the stuff that hurts to look at. I don’t want to do this, but I know it is for the best. I need to do this.

I love you, Phil. 

From Dan.” 

~~~

This letter is shorter than the first one; he can feel it in the lightness of the paper as he folds it and places it in the envelope before sealing the envelope shut. He writes Phil’s address on the envelope and places it in the hatbox alongside the other letter.

A quick glance at the clock tells him that he only has ten minutes until Louise is scheduled to arrive at the flat and he is still wearing his pyjamas and the living room is an absolute mess, the remains of half eaten meals and plates and cups he is too lazy to tidy up and scattered across most of the available sides.

He scrambles around, probably quicker than he has ever moved before, trying to tidy the clutter scattered around the room. He pushes things into drawers and shoves dishes into the sink haphazardly trying to create some form of order in the room. 

He doesn’t notice that he forgot to put away the hatbox.

Upon finishing tidying, he races towards his bedroom before pulling on the first clean clothes he sees. This room is also a mess, but he can get away with not showing it to Louise. His hair hangs in its natural curls and he doesn’t have time to straighten it so he combs it quickly in an attempt to tame the curls. It doesn’t work but he doesn’t have time to worry about that now.

The doorbell rings just as he finishes so he shouts down for Louise to come up, praying he remembered to leave the door unlocked for her. He tries to slow down his heart beat by taking long breathes and focusing on staying calm, but it doesn’t work and as Louise climbs up the stairs he finds himself swallowing back anxiety and wishing he could run and hide. 

He does neither and instead stays still as she walks up the last stair and gathers him into a hug. The greatest thing about Louise is that she knows. She knows when he’s had a bad day or when he feels like shit, she knows all of this and how to comfort him. She truly is a blessing to his life. 

Dan’s stomach clenches as he realises she probably now knows him better than Phil ever did. 

~~~

The clearing up goes great, getting rid of the stuff feels similar to being freed. Through Dan doesn’t know what he was freed from, the feeling is still nice. The hallways are no longer cluttered with miscellaneous crap that he can’t be bothered to throw away, and the living room is 200% tidier after Louise noticed the poor attempt at cleaning up. 

The house now feels fresh, clean and new. He hasn’t had that feeling since before Phil left and it’s exciting and different. There’s a weight gone from his chest that he hadn’t noticed before but now he wonders how he could ever have lived with it before. 

They take turns loading some of the stuff into her car and then they drive it down to the local charity shop, deciding that it’s better to give away his stuff than simply throw it away. 

He doesn’t see Louise take the hatbox into the store, still containing the letters. He didn’t see her pick it up and put it in the car either. 

He doesn’t even notice the hatbox is missing until he gets home after being dropped off by Louise. When he does notice, he panics and almost tears apart the house in desperation trying to find it. It takes him longer than he would like to even consider the possibility that it is gone. 

But when he does he suddenly forgets how to breathe. His chest tightens and his heart races and he doesn’t quite realise he is crying until a single tear splashes on the back of his hand. His back hits the wall and he slides down it, his energy drained. 

The hatbox is gone, probably sent to the charity shop where the letters will be sent to the post office and Phil will receive them. 

He is living in a worst-case scenario and it fucking sucks.

He cries. Long drawn out sobs that hurt his throat and he gasps for air while the tears stream down his face. He hyperventilates and tries desperately to breathe but fails, causing the tears to come harder. The only thing he can focus on is the impending feeling that something is wrong and the apprehension that comes with it.

When his panic attack fades, he’s left with an odd feeling of emptiness. After months of emotions too intense to handle, the hollow feeling inside of him is welcome relief. 

He moves robotically, no thought behind the movements. He isn’t even fully aware of what he’s doing. Before he realises it, he’s calling Louise, his phone feels cold in his hand so he puts the call on speaker and sits down again. She picks up and he almost forgets how to speak, 

“Hey Louise.” His voice cracks and he wishes it wasn’t so obvious that he had been crying. 

“Hey Dan, what’s up? Are you okay? Did I leave something at yours?” She lists off questions and Dan sighs deeply before answering. 

“Nothing is wrong, and you haven’t left anything behind, but when you were here did you see a hatbox?? Because I can’t find it and I’m kind of stressing out over it?” There’s a long pause while Louise answers and this does nothing to settle his feeling of apprehension about her answer.

“I may have seen it,” she begins, speaking slowly as though Dan were a wild animal, “was anything important in there?” 

“Yeah actually, a letter.” It isn’t a lie, but it still feels funny to say it. It’s not just a letter; it’s the thing that currently has the potential to destroy everything he’s built up around him. This thought triggers a fresh wave of anxiety to fill the void inside of him and he finds himself bordering on the edge of a panic attack again.

“Oh my gosh Dan I’m so sorry, I sent it out because i figured it was old and it was really light so I just presumed it was empty, oh god Dan I’m sorry!” She rambles at him down the phone and he tries to console her, even though he knows really it should be the other way around. He’s also glad she didn’t ask what the letter was, who it was to or anything like that. Although to be fair, knowing Louise, she probably knew what the letter was as soon as he mentioned it. 

“It’s okay, besides it’s nothing we can’t fix, right?” He knows it’s hopeless, the charity shop doesn’t open again until Monday which is three days away and they will probably be sorting through everything he brought in right now. The lie tastes bitter and he knows she doesn’t believe him, but she plays along for his sake.

They converse politely for a few more moments, Dan too in-shock to joke and laugh like his usual self and Louise senses this so the phone call ends quickly. Dan is glad to be rid of the slightly awkward conversation and he uses the silence filling the apartment to try to calm his heart rate and slow his breathing.

He takes long deep breathes, focusing on the movement of breathing in and out until his heart stops beating frantically and returns to its normal speed. 

How did so much go wrong over the course of the last hour? The letters are out in the public now, in the wrong hands, they would completely damage his reputation, or they could be given to Phil. At the moment he isn’t sure which is worse. 

He imagines how Phil is going to feel if he opens that letter. Would he write back? Dan almost laughs out loud at the idea of them speaking for the first time in a year via letters. 

Maybe this isn’t that bad. If Phil gets the letter, that’s it. Dan will get an answer, at the risk of putting all of his feelings on the line, but is it worth it? If he heard back from Phil, he could use this to find the answers to why Phil left, if he didn’t reply, it would truly mean the end of them.

Is it a risk he’s willing to take? 

~~~

Dan finds himself rushing to the charity store at 8am on Monday morning. After an entire weekend stuck in the endless debate of whether or not to just let the letter be sent out, he decided against it. Maybe one day on his own terms, but not today. 

The store has just opened by the time he gets there and he doesn’t see any of his stuff in the shop. He walks towards the counter, suddenly a lot calmer now that he is actually inside the store. Of course they haven’t sent the letters off. Why would they do that? An old woman is sat on a plastic chair behind the counter and she watches him as he walks towards her. 

“Hello, I was wondering if you still had the hatbox that I handed in last week? There was some stuff in it that I forgot to take out and I sort of need it back.”

“Are you Dan Howell?” She asks and Dan nods in confirmation, “There was a hatbox handed in, I’ll go and see if we’ve got it in the back room.” She smiles at him, and he smiles back. She returns a few seconds later just as Dan begins to start looking at an old wooden wardrobe. He briefly thinks about how it would look good in his bedroom before he is interrupted by her clearing her throat behind him. 

“We have the hatbox, but there’s nothing inside it I’m afraid. Are you sure you didn’t take whatever it was out?” 

“It was some letters, and I didn’t even notice they were gone until I got home.” He can feel the calm feeling fading. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider the actual possibility they might already have sent the letters off. His fears are confirmed when she next speaks.

“I remember seeing them actually, I think we sent them to the post office. I just thought they were in there by mistake.” 

She’s still talking when he turns around and walks out but he doesn’t care. He had stopped listening after she mentioned sending the letters away. 

This is it. It’s real. 

Dan doesn’t even make it around the corner before he’s throwing up onto the street. 

He wonders how he must look, throwing up onto the street in London on a Monday morning. It’s not the sort of impression he wants to give off. 

He finishes gagging and wipes his mouth. He stands up fully and starts running. Desperate to put as much distance between him and the charity shop as possible. He doesn’t stop running until he reaches the park near their house. A twenty minute journey covered in five minutes. He collapses on a park bench and desperately tries to regain his breath. 

This is it. 

The letters that were originally for his eyes only are out there. He has no control over what happens next. He isn’t sure what scares him the most. 

He considers calling Louise, before deciding he doesn’t want to burden her with this. He can get through this on his own, he has to. 

~~~

Little does he know that only a few miles away, Phil is settling down to eat breakfast when something is posted though the letterbox. Two white envelopes land on the carpet, both addressed to him. He recognises the writing, but is unsure who it belongs to. 

Curiosity overtakes him and he opens the first letter, he sees the addresses at the top of the paper and instantly knows who sent this letter. 

The only question he has is how did Dan find his current address?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the chapter you have all been waiting for! (probably not but anyway)
> 
> what happened that night
> 
> enjoy, 
> 
> (also to the person who asked, there is no smut in this so i wont summarize the chapter here)

They never intended to get drunk. Of course, it had crossed their minds, but there was a silent agreement between them to not drink too much. The next day they had plans to film a gaming video together and decided that it would be easier to film if both parties were not hungover. 

As usual, there was also the fact this was a YouTuber party and there was a high chance that any embarrassing things that happened between them would probably be caught on camera.

The actual party was good, it was a great opportunity to talk with people they hadn’t seen for months, and the alcohol was free which was an added bonus. Alcohol is expensive so of course they were going to take advantage of this fact, but one drink turned into two, then three, then suddenly they’re wondering home together drunk after tying and failing to hail a taxi. The distance between them is small; Phil is so close to Dan that he could feel the warmth of the others body heat. 

Eventually, they spot a taxi heading in their direction and wave it over. Phil, in his slightly more drunken state, tells the driver where they want to go and only slurring his speech twice. He counts it as a success in his head. Dan follows him into the backseat of the taxi and laughs at something Phil whispers to him, a joke maybe, or a comment on something nearby. In the morning he won’t remember and it wouldn’t matter anyway. 

The journey passes unnaturally fast. Drunken laughter had always seemed to pass time quicker for them in particular; Dan had previously speculated that maybe it was because the alcohol affected their perception of time, Phil had laughed and told him to shut up. 

Dan pays the driver, reaching into his wallet and trying to find the right money, before giving up and handing over a note and a handful of coins, telling the driver to keep the change. At this point, Phil has already exited the vehicle and managed to stumble to the gate, leaning against it to avoid falling over. Dan joins him a few seconds later and laughs as he almost trips over the pavement. 

Unlocking the door to their flat proved to be the next big challenge. Dan fumbles with his keys, trying to fit them into the lock. He almost gives up in frustration but eventually he manages to slide the key in and twist it around so the door unlocks. 

They lean on each other for support as they walk up the stairs; Dan tries not to focus on how he can feel Phil’s breath against his neck and Phil’s body pressed against his. He has to remind himself that they’re only platonic, Phil would never feel that way about him. 

They make it up the stairs with no incident, which is a relief to both of them. Dan leads Phil into the kitchen, before reaching into the cupboard and grabbing a glass for both of them. He fills them with water before handing one to Phil. Even in his semi-hysterical state he recognises that they’re going to be hungover in the morning, so he tries his best to prevent that. 

The next morning when he wakes up he’ll have a headache, but for a different reason than the alcohol. 

He sips the water, having to put in effort to stop from spilling it when Phil tells a particularly funny joke and he laughs. The light in the kitchen is dimmed; it makes Phil’s eyes look dark blue and adds shadows to the contours on his face, creating angular features that automatically draw Dan’s eyes towards them. He gets a sudden urge to kiss Phil.

It’s a pleasant idea. He thinks that maybe, if Phil had shown any type of interest back, he would have gone for it. But he hadn’t so Dan doesn’t.

As Phil is the drunkest of the two, and Dan is only tipsy (or so he thinks), he takes it upon himself to manoeuvre Phil into his bedroom and in bed. He leads Phil into his bedroom, desperately trying to not fall over the clutter scattered around the room. He reaches over and flicks the lamp on, illuminating the dark corners of the room. 

Phil manages to cooperate enough to lie down in his bed, Dan wonders how he managed to get this far without disaster. He pulls the duvet over Phil to try and protect him from the cold of the flat. He’s just about to turn around and leave when something grabs hold of his wrist, a glance down tells him its Phil’s hand and not some evil demon trying to kill him. 

He looks back at Phil, confusion spread over his face. Dan barely registers what is happening until he has been pulled down so his face is level with Phils and he is sat on the edge of the bed. He opens his mouth to ask what’s up with Phil but is silenced by something pressing against his lips. 

He closes his eyes, losing himself in the kiss, the feeling of Phil’s soft lips against his own chapped ones. It’s gentle and loving and everything Dan imagined kissing Phil would be. 

Phil pulls away and Dan has to force himself to become coherent again, to think past the tingling on his lips and focus on the real matter at hand; “What did you do that for?” he asks, then immediately cringes because that’s not what he meant to say at all but apparently he’s drunk enough to have no filters. Phil doesn’t seem to mind and instead leans forward smirking, lifting up from the bed to whisper something in Dan’s ear. 

“Don’t you want this?” Dan’s head shoot up at the words. Phil puts on an almost hurt expression and Dan looks down again. It’s easier to look at the floor when he speaks than at the face of his best friend who he is in love with. 

“You’re drunk, you do-“

“So are you, and besides, we both know exactly what we’re doing.”

“You’ll regret this in the morning” 

“No I won’t. Neither of us will.” 

Dan believes him. It’s the only encouragement his drunken mind needs to make him lean forward and reattach his lips to Phil’s. 

The kiss is slow, drawn out. When they break apart to breath, Dan smiles gently as he rests his forehead against Phils. 

In the morning he might regret this, but as he attaches his lips to Phil’s again he decides it doesn’t matter. 

~~~

When Dan first opens his eyes, he doesn’t realise what’s wrong. He opens his eyes, still blurry with sleep and it takes him a moment to realise that this isn’t his bedroom. 

At first he thinks that maybe he slept out, but then remembers that he didn’t go out last night. 

That only leaves one other place where he could be. 

He slept in Phil’s bed.

The though isn’t exactly comforting, although he has had many dreams that would ideally end in his situation something still feels wrong. It’s a nagging, worrying feeling persistently reminding him that something isn’t quite right.

He rolls over onto his side. The brushing of the duvet on his skin tells him that he’s only wearing boxers at the minute. The bed is empty and cold, nobody else has slept here for at least an hour. That must be what is wrong. 

Dan wonders for a second what happened, trying to place together the images forming in his mind. It hits him all at once. He’s not sure whether or not he was better off not knowing. What seems like a billion images float around his mind, none of them clear enough to focus on. He wonders how on earth this happened. 

He rolls onto his back before pushing the duvet off his legs and pushing himself upright. His head hurts faintly, a dull throbbing ache that seems to constantly remind him of the night before. As he stands, his stomach turns and for a second he is convinced he will throw up He doesn’t so he continues walking.

He pushes open the door gently, trying to be as silent and possible to avoid the awkward conversation with Phil for as long as possible. It creaks slightly, and Dan freezes, when nothing moves down the corridor he runs out of Phil’s room and into his own. 

Once safely behind the door of his room, he allows the reality of the situation to sink in. He slept with Phil. He slept with his best friend. 

He probably also ruined everything. Great. 

Phil probably knows how he feels. Hat thought scares him above all others. Phil knows Dan is in love with him. 

Phil isn’t homophobic, or at least Dan doesn’t think so. They’ve never outright had this conversation, Dan had been eager to hide his sexuality and so had often resorted to changing the topic of the conversation to avoid giving anything away. 

Maybe that’s why Phil wasn’t there this morning, why the bed was empty and he was left alone. 

Or maybe he was just over thinking and Phil had simply woken up earlier and decided to get something to eat. 

Dan decides to wait until he’s showered and dressed to confront Phil. The longer he can postpone the inevitable awkward conversations the better in his opinion. 

He gathers up some clothes in his arm, along with a towel and a comb before opening his bedroom door again. A cool breeze drifts though the apartment and reminds Dan of how little clothes his is actually wearing. 

He listens carefully, there is no sign of life down the hall so he runs towards the bathroom quietly, trying not to draw any attention to himself or make any sounds that might interest Phil. His mission is successful, and he all but slams the door behind him when he reaches the bathroom. He lays his clothes on the side, and the towels on the rack. 

Dan is looking at himself in the mirror, wondering if he looks as bad as he feels when he spots it. A trail of purple bruises leading from under his jaw to just above his collarbones. He stomach drops at this, a physical reminder of this fuck up that he doesn’t need. 

Also, how the fuck is he going to cover these up. 

He knows that he shouldn’t be angry at Phil, they were both drunk and it was nobody fault, but the anger inside of him needs to be directed at someone and Phil is the only logical person to blame. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the raging storm inside of him. Dan knows he shouldn’t blame Phil, but right now Phil is the only person he can blame. Blaming himself would only make this real; he isn’t quite ready to accept that he is as much to blame as Phil.

It’s during the shower when he allows his emotions to overwhelm him. He cries, hoping Phil can’t hear the chocked sounds he makes in-between sobs. 

How could he fuck up this much?

He’s probably ruined everything between them. 

He sobs harshly, pressing his palm against his eyes to try and stop the tears. It doesn’t work. Two seconds later someone knocks on the door and Phil’s voice calls out, “Dan, are you okay in there?” 

Dan freezes, was he crying that loudly? His head shoots up to look in the direction of the door and he clears his throat before replying, lest Phil come in and see him in this state. 

“Yeah I’m fine, why are you asking?” he manages to croak out. Phil won’t believe this but at least it might encourage him to leave Dan alone. 

A disbelieving “hmmm” comes from behind the door and Dan can faintly hear Phil’s footsteps retreating. He feels bad for feeling disappointed when Phil leaves, even though that’s what he wanted. 

God emotions are confusing.

Dan wipes the last few tears off his face, before finishing showering. He turns of the shower and is instantly greeted by an attack of cold air that bites at his skin and causes little goose bumps to rise on his skin. 

Wrapping himself in his towel provides little comfort so he dresses quickly, pulling on black skinny jeans and a t-shirt. He doesn’t even bother straightening his hair. One last look in the mirror tells him that someone of the hickies are visible above the collar of his shirt, he pulls it up awkwardly, trying to hide the noticeable marks. It doesn’t work and eventually he admits defeat, self consciously stroking a finger over one of the purple bruises. 

He decides eventually that he’s avoided Phil long enough, the sooner he faces Phil the quicker the initial awkwardness of over, right? 

Wrong. 

He walks into the living room, Phil’s already up and dressed and is currently sat with his laptop resting on his legs and appears to be browsing tumblr. He looks up when Dan enters and his eyes flicker down to the angry bruise under Dan’s jaw before he meets Dan’s eyes again Something unreadable flickers across his face, Dan doesn’t know what it was but the way Phil’s lips set into a rigid line tells him it was negative. 

He swallows uncomfortably, all the words he wanted to say fading from his mind. Instead he smiles self consciously and walks into the kitchen. Anxiety clouds his mind and appears to choke him as he walks, the back of his neck prickles, like he’s being watched. 

As he reaches the kitchen, Dan allows himself to consider that maybe it had all been a mistake. Maybe Phil was simply feeling horny and Dan was the nearest person willing to help out. Maybe Phil had taken advantage of Dan’s feelings. 

Maybe this was only meant to be a one night stand. 

He swallows the urge to cry, he ignores the tears burning behind his eyes. Phil wouldn’t do something like that, right? 

~~~

When he walks back into the living room, Phil is gone, only his laptop is left behind. 

Out of curiosity, he looks at the tab it’s open on.

He pretends he doesn’t feel hurt when the google search reads “flats for sale in London”.

He goes back to his room and cries until he falls asleep again.

~~~

He doesn’t confront Phil about what he saw. What’s the point? If Phil wants to leave Dan can’t exactly stop him, as much as he may want to. 

Dan watches Phil throughout the day. He doesn’t comment on how they only speak politely to each other, the usual friendly banter missing from their conversations. He tries not to think about how whenever they touch, only gentle brushes of their skin, Phil quickly withdraws and leaves the room. Often leaving Dan looking up after him in shock.

He definitely doesn’t notice how Phil’s eyes often seem to be staring at the visible marks on his neck. He certainty doesn’t notice how Phil’s expression shifts from a calm, neutral expression to a sad one, sometimes an angry one. 

He absolutely does not cry himself thinking that he might be about to lose the best thing in his life. 

~~~

Dan wakes up ten hours later to an empty flat and the unmistakable feeling that something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, this is long overdue. Sorry but I've been really busy with school and other things so I haven't had time to write. also I had really bad writers block for about a week.
> 
> As usual if there's any mistakes in this please let me know.
> 
> thank you to everyone that has left kudos and comments ily all, you are the reason I continue to write this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me ages to get out because school is a bitch and parents are limiting my internet usage. also i've had major writers block. I'm not sure when the next one will be out but I'm off school next week so I'll try and write then.
> 
> I've rushed to get this out so let me know if there are any typos! thank you

Dear Daniel Howell,

It’s been a while hasn’t it? I wasn’t sure whether or not to respond to that letter, it seems as if it was sent by mistake. Then I decided that, if you are even remotely similar to the person I once knew so well, you’d rather have an answer than never get a response. 

Consider this the closure that I never gave you.

(I’m sorry).

The night we spent together was one of the best nights of my life, but it was also the scariest. It opened up a whole realm of possibilities that I hadn’t before considered in our relationship. The scariest was the fact that maybe you could like me as much as I loved you. 

I remember you falling asleep curled against my side. Your hair was curling from sweat and I could feel small puffs of your breath against my chest as you succumbed to sleep. It was what i had imagined so many times. I remember watching you until I fell asleep, wondering how we ended up here. 

In the morning everything was different. 

I opened my eyes and at first, I wasn’t sure what had happened, I remember looking down at your sleeping body and thinking “what the hell happened last night?” 

I remember a strong feeling of panic overcoming me, all the negative thoughts I had ignored last night coming back to hit me full force as I realised what had happened. 

Most importantly, I remember considering the possibility that maybe you didn’t feel the same way back. Before I had presumed that this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing, now I was thinking about how this could have been a mistake, how you might not feel the same way towards me, how you might want us to go back to being just friends. 

How you might regret everything. 

To me, that was the scariest idea of them all. 

I decided that the best course of action was to just avoid mentioning it, that eventually became avoiding talking to you. I knew this would hurt you, but I decided that it was easier to protect myself than to consider your feelings. 

I’m sorry. 

I remember at lot of things from that night and the following days, but the clearest memory I have is of hearing you cry in the shower. I knew instantly what you were crying about, I wanted to walk in and hug you, assure you that everything would be okay, but I didn’t. Instead I chose to knock on the door and ask you if you were okay, you said yes and although I could hear the croaky edge to your voice, I didn’t pressure you for answers. It still hurt that you no longer trusted me enough to talk to me about these things.

Realistically, I knew that the relationship between us would either crumble or strengthen. That was the point when i realised that this could potentially be the end of Dan and Phil. 

You walked into the living room after; I could tell form the look on your face that you wanted to talk about it. A sensation of panic spread throughout my body as I glanced down at the bright bruises on your neck, this was it, you were going to tell me it was a mistake. I remember trying to force a neutral look onto my face, so I looked nonchalant. Perhaps I was trying too hard and instead ended up with a frown etched onto my face. Whatever the reason was, you took one look at me and smiled before walking out of the room. 

That was when I realised the true severity of the situation. The thing you had wanted to say must have been serious. Maybe you had wanted me to leave. In a fit of panic I remember researching “flats for sale in London” before running out of the room. I had a panic attack in my room at the thought of living without you. 

Look where we are now.

I knew then that the best thing to do was distance myself from you. You were a determined person, if you wanted something, you got it. I decided that if you wanted me badly enough you could prove it. 

It was terrible logic, I know. 

Instead we grew apart. The friendly banter was missing from our conversations and I flinched away every time we touched simply because I expected you to do the same. 

I knew that I couldn’t stay with you anymore. It hurt me too much to even look at you. I packed my stuff one night and left. I stayed at PJ’s for a few weeks before I found my own flat. A cheap, small apartment a few miles south of where we lived together. 

I knew as soon as I left I knew that I had made a huge mistake. But that’s how I deal with problems. 

By running away.

I left for many reasons, but the main one was that love hurts so much more when it’s only one sided. I left because i was scared, because running is the only way I know how to deal with problems without you by my side. But mainly, I left because I loved you so much sometimes it was scary. I fucked up and ruined the best thing in my life. 

Because what’s worse than knowing you want something? Besides knowing you can never have it?

I experienced the first few months in a detached state. Working in a robotic fashion and forcing myself to make videos every few weeks so people would know I wasn’t dead.

My family and friends become worried, they advised that I visit a counsellor.

I’m not surprised, I didn’t cope very well. I turned to alcohol to deal with things and spent far too many nights sleeping in strangers’ beds. But I was still alive. 

 

When you started posting videos again I had my first (proper) breakdown. I was screaming and crying and throwing stuff because, how dare you start to get over me when i couldn’t even function like a normal human being?

I guess we were both equally messed up. 

The video talking about my favourite memories was because I wanted you to see it. I hoped that if you saw that I still loved you, maybe you would get in contact with me. It was a stupid, irrational thought but I clung to it as though it were a lifeline. When you never contacted me, I went out and got properly drunk. I returned home the next morning smelling of an unnamed person’s cologne and my own vomit. That was when I realised I needed to get my shit together. 

I made my choices, you made yours. Now I just had to face the consequences. 

There’s something terrible scary about suddenly facing the rest of your life alone after previously you’d pictured spending it with someone you loved. But I learned how to cope. I stopped drinking, and started confiding in my friends. PJ and Louise were the greatest friends ever.

It’s weird how they both knew how we both felt yet never told us. Maybe they decided it was for the best. 

I can’t believe it’s been a year since I left. It’s felt like so much longer. 

You might not believe it, but that night was one of the best nights of my life too. I’m sorry I ruined it with the stuff that happened after. 

I fell in love with you. I’m not sure when, or where. But I remember one day waking up and being like, holy fuck. I love you. You were (are) the most important thing in my life. 

Reading your letter left me with a clear insight into how you felt. The character that I’d projected my insecurities onto, enough to make me want to leave, was no longer there. Instead it was just you. The raw emotion in the first letter reminded me that my actions did impact you, as much as, if not more than, they impacted me. 

Why did I fuck everything up so much? 

You were also a big part of my life, and the best. You taught me a lot too, like how to be strong and how to make decisions for the benefit of myself, not based on what others wanted. You taught me how to love so much it hurts, but you also taught me how to hide it. I miss you so much everyday it’s stupid. 

Maybe in the future everything will be okay, that’s a nice thought, isn’t it? 

It’s a possibility now, I guess. Consider this a preposition, you’ve read this so far, you know how i feel. If you want to get in contact again, text me. I’ll understand if not, I ruined both of our lives to an extent. But this is me trying to fix things and hopefully make everything better. 

I’ll understand if I never hear from you, but remember that I still love you. 

From Phil Lester. 

~~~~

Dan finished reading the letter, his eyes are blurred with tears. Suddenly everything he’s believed for the last year has been proved wrong. 

Phil doesn’t hate him. 

Phil feels the same way.

He wants to scream and shout and cry and punch something all at the same time. A whirlwind of emotion travels through him. 

Instead he sits down. Numbly, he lifts up his phone and thinks about calling Louise for a second, to ask for her advice, but then he decides against it and lets him hand drop onto his leg as he struggles to process the words hand written onto the paper. 

 

After spending a year moping over Phil, how can Dan accept that Phil loves him too? 

He wants to text Phil, he really does, but he’s just so angry. How can Phil read all of his innermost thoughts then ask Dan to contact him? How could Phil leave for over a year then ask that? 

He decides to call Louise, sending a text first to make sure she is actually available to call. She picks up on the first ring. 

“Hey Dan, what’s up?” 

“I heard back from Phil” he responds, his voice sounds monotonous and robotic, completely void of any emotion. There’s a moment of silence until she answers, faint breathing can be heard though the phone speaker. 

“Dan I know you want advice but I just don’t know what to say, do what you want to do. If you want to see him, do it, if you never want to see him again, don’t do it. It’s up to you.”

Dan considers her words for a moment.

“I don’t know what i want to do.” He answers finally, “I mean i do want to see Phil again, but I’m angry at him for leaving?” 

“Did he say why he left?” Louise asks.

“Yeah, he said it was because he thought i didn’t like him back and because that scared him and because he was scared that what happened was ruin our relationship, like 2012 I guess.” Dan signs, “I mean he had every right to be scared, I was too, but I can’t help but think this is far worse than any part of 2012.”

There is a moment of silence; Louise clears her throat before answering. “Dan, I think you know what you want really, I think you’re just scared of the outcomes.” 

Dan wonders for a second just how well Louise knows him. It’s never like this with any of his other friends; if he asked anyone else what to do they’d give him their opinion of what he should do. Louise knows what he wants to do and isn’t afraid to tell him. She’s a really good friend and Dan can’t help but think that he should be more appreciative of her.

“Alright, I’ll message him. Tomorrow though, it’s getting late and I need to figure out what I’m going to say.” If Louise sees through his excuses, she doesn’t bring it up, instead she offers to come over and help Dan decide what to say and what to do, potentially bringing some alcohol. Dan agrees, but politely declines the offer to get drunk. That’s how he finds himself an hour later, sat on the couch with Louise eating takeaway pizza and laughing hysterically at a programme playing on the TV that neither of them knows the name of.

It’s the happiest Dan has been in a long time. Halfway through the night he realises this and pauses, midway though a sentence. Louise doesn’t comment on it, but now Dan’s realises that this is the effect that Phil has on him he can’t help but feel as though maybe the world is shining a little brighter now he has even just a flicker of hope that everything will be okay.

~~~

He wakes up the next morning with a weight of dread and anxiety crushing down on his chest. It paralyses him, limiting his breath and numbing his senses. He kicks the duvet off his body frantically, trying to free himself from the cocoon of blankets and falls out of bed in the process. This seems to be enough to clear his mind and he lays on his back on the floor as his breathing slowly returns to normal. 

Dan stares at the ceiling, thinking. Today is the day he told Louise he would text Phil. Despite what she said, they didn’t talk at all about what Dan would say and now he feels slightly lost, intimidated by the daunting task ahead. 

He stands slowly, his head spins slightly and suddenly he’s glad he didn’t drink last night because waking up like this and hungover would be so much worse.

The first thing he decides to do is shower, the hot water cascading down his back calms him. He also takes the opportunity to think about what to say, multiple options float around inside his head but none seem right. Either too formal or too casual. Too much or not enough. 

But really, what do you say to the person who you lived with for 4 years but who then left because you slept together?

Dan decides that out of all the things that could happen, Phil never responding is the worst. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of Phil having blocked his number. But he still doesn’t have an idea of what to say in the text. 

As he’s pulling on clothes he thinks about what if Phil didn’t mean it? What if he only felt sympathetic for Dan? He stops thinking those thoughts quickly because the Phil Lester that he knew would never do anything like that. 

It’s when he’s eaten breakfast, washed and put away the dishes, iron his clothes, vacuumed the flat and tidied his room that he decides he can’t put off the inevitable any longer. 

He finds his phone, still resting on the drawer beside his bed, and clicks on “New Message”. He types in Phil’s name and his number appears. Dan thinks for a few minutes before typing out a message and sending it. 

____

From: Dan 

To: Phil

Hey, you said you wanted to get back in contact, so here I am. 

____

He presses send and immediately locks his phone and drops it onto his bed. Moving swiftly, he stands and runs a hand through his hair, pacing up and down his bedroom. A billion questions rush through his head.

What if Phil doesn’t reply? 

What if he said something wrong? 

What if this was a mistake? 

A few minues pass, these thoughts still bouncing around Dan’s head, until his phone beeps. The overly-cheery jingle appears to be mocking him and his anxious thoughts. He rushes forwards to grab his phone, almost dropping it in his haste. 

____

Messaged Recieved

From: Phil 

____


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI i know its been over a month since I said I'd have this chapter up, but I have a really good reason for not posting which im going to explain in the next paragraph.
> 
> tw// d*ath and h*spitals mention 
> 
> OK around a month ago I started writing this chapter but then something happened and i ended up in hospital and I almost died. I had to spend the last part of my school holiday in hospital which sucked but this meant that I didn't get chance to write during then. When I got out of hospital I mainly focused on recovering and trying to get better as well as struggling with school work and quite severe mental health issues (the main reason I ended up in hospital). So yeah that's why it took me a month to post this i'm sorry please forgive me, also i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense im typing it in a rush because im going out soon!!!

Dan’s heart thuds dully in his chest as he stares out of the window, his vision obscured by the condensation coating the glass. A half empty cup of a much too sweet drink sits on the table in front of him and he licks his lips to rid them of the sticky taste. 

The Starbucks is quiet, he thinks, especially for this time of day. Through the blurry window he can faintly see a traffic jam of cars and smudged outlines of various people walking up and down the streets. The midday sun shines brightly, even though the window and for a second Dan is reminded of the constant glare of the summer sun. 

He is unsure how long he has sat there staring out of the window and sipping his sickly drink, a quick glance at his phone tells him it has only been around forty minutes. Dan sighs and resumes looking out of the window, as if hypnotised by the blurring colours and patterns. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, he ignore it. Deciding that it will only be PJ or Louise and he doesn’t want their concern. He just wants to be left alone. 

How did he end up here? Just last week he was sat eating pizza with Louise, now he’s sat alone at a starbucks table with anxiety twisting his insides as he prepares to either make the best decision in his life, or the worst.

He checks his phone, looking at the time and ignoring the message notification. Ten minutes left. He downs the rest of his drink, grimacing at the sweet taste and stands, pulling his coat on then walking out of the Starbucks. The ice cold wind beats at the exposed skin on his face and neck, the earlier thoughts of summer long since gone from his head. 

Nervousness causes his hands to shake in his pockets and his breath to catch in his throat. In an attempt to delay the inevitable, he walks the long way around, pretending to enjoy the scenic route of the park he chose to walk through. 

All too quickly, he reaches the chosen destination, a small coffee shop on a street corner about half way between their houses. He stands at the edge of the window until he spots Phil, who’s sat at the other side of the cafe looking out of the window. 

Dan breathes in and out, watching the swirl of his breath in the air, before walking in to the cafe. 

The light sounds of conversation runs throughout the room, lamps and fairy lights scattered around the slightly darkened room give it a cosy and relaxing feeling. An overpowering scent of coffee fills the room. Only a few people are in, most of the seats are empty. Phil is sat in the seat furthest away from everyone else. A small circular table surrounded by two navy patterned plush chairs. In Dan’s opinion, Phil couldn’t have picked a better place to sit. 

A bell chimes as the door shuts behind Dan and Phil looks up quickly. The panicked look on his face indicates to Dan that he isn’t the only one nervous about this meeting. 

He makes his way around the tables, apologising as he bumps into someone’s chair. As he reaches the table, Phil looks up at him and smiles. Dan finds himself smiling back without meaning to. 

When he sits down, a waitress walks over, her heels clicking against the floor, and introduces herself as Kirsty. She looks young, probably still in university, and she flicks her long brown hair over her shoulder as she asks for their order. Phil orders a latte and Dan, thinking of the sickly drink he had earlier, asks for a simple white coffee. Kirsty smiles politely at them before walking away from their table. 

As she leaves, Phil nudges Dan’s foot under the table so that Dan turns to look at Phil. 

“I bet she hates it here.” He mutters, barely loud enough to be heard over the chatter. 

“Are you kidding? I think it would be cool to work here look how nice it looks.” Dan responds. 

“Yeah but just before you got here, a family with a child came in and their child would not stop screaming. Honestly it was terrible, I couldn’t cope.”

Dan considers this for a second before nodding his head in agreement. 

“True. I couldn’t deal with the children.” He muses, “Or the teenagers. Or the rude older people that act like the world revolves around them.”

“Or the irritating suburban Mums with their six children each given a really pretentious name with an equally as bad nickname.” Phil adds. 

Dan laughs at this. He tries to think of something else to say, but his mind fails him and instead he lets the silence fill the void of conversation. This isn’t a calm silence; it is a tense one, awkward as both parties struggle to think of something to say.

Dan thinks it’s a miracle that their first verbal conversation in over a year was a success. Of course, spending the past week constantly texting Phil served as preparation, but now, face to face with the person that caused him so much pain, Dan can’t think of a single thing to say. 

Kirsty breaks the silence first as she returns, carrying a circular tray holding two streaming mugs. She places one in front of Phil and one in front of Dan. Dan reaches out to curl his hands around the mug, relishing in the heat spreading through the mug to warm his hands. He smiles at Kirsty and nods his head in thanks before she walks away and then the awkward silence returns. 

Dan should have expected the awkwardness, he searches desperately for something to say, he settles for examining Phil’s face, observing the differences since their last meeting.

Phil’s hair is darker, his eyes seem bluer. His hair is slightly longer than Dan remembers and he has dark circles under his eyes. Dan guesses that he wasn’t the only person who didn’t sleep well last night. He wonders if Phil was also worrying about this meeting. 

Phil clears his throat and Dan realises Phil had been watching him staring. He smiles apologetically. 

“You look different.” 

“Of course I look different, it’s been a year.” Phil says, the words aren’t intended to bite but Dan still looks down, almost in shame. 

“I saw your videos though; you look so much different to them. I don’t know why. I’m not even sure what’s different.” 

“We’re different, Dan. Nothing changed apart from us.” 

Dan swallows. He resists the urge to apologise. He knows Phil doesn’t mean it in a harsh way, that he’s simply stating the truth, but it still hurts. 

“Maybe that’s for the better though; maybe it’s a good thing.”

It sounds more like a question than a statement. 

Phil nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, maybe it is better.” He whispers, smiling weakly. 

Dan sips his coffee, its still too hot so it burns the back of his throat. 

“We’ve both changed haven’t we? I wonder exactly how much is different.”

It’s said as a statement, not a question, but Phil still answers. 

“I like cheese now. I wear black a lot more often. I wear glasses more than contacts and drink my coffee without sugar.” Phil smiles and looks down. “I was keeping track of everything about me that changed.” 

Dan thinks for a second. 

“I wear colour a lot more.” He gestures to the red jumper he’s wearing. Its the Christmas one he was given by YouTube. “I learnt how to deal with moths, how to cook eccentric and pretentious meals that look better than they taste. Most importantly, I learnt how to ask for help with my problems.” 

Phil looks at Dan, his expression is unreadable and Dan wonders what he is thinking. 

“Your eyes are more brown.” Phil says. Dan furrows his eyebrows in confusion. 

“I’m pretty sure my eye colour hasn’t changed.” 

“No, it has I promise you. They’re a deeper colour. More like chocolate than the amber-ish colour they were.” 

Dan ponders this for a second. How could his eyes have changed colour? It doesn’t make sense? He shrugs, “it doesn’t matter though, does it?”

“I suppose not.” Phil said, resting his head on his head, elbow propped on the table. “But it’s still nice to note these differences; it reminds us that something happened. That something big changed.”

“It’s not always good to dwell on the past though, I’d rather leave it behind us.” Dan quotes his therapist; he can almost hear her soothing voice in his said saying those exact same words. 

“Let’s just focus on the future for now.” Phil responds. Dan looks at him. 

“That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“It’s all the cheese I’ve been eating recently.” Dan laughs at that. “But this whole conversation is cheesy, I didn’t know we were both this emotional.” 

“I guess a lot of things changed since the last time we spoke.” 

Dan swirls the dregs in his cup around, before downing the last drop of coffee. Phil copies him and finishes his latte. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Phil asks, Dan nods in agreement. The cafe atmosphere has become stuffy and uncomfortable, the chatter is too loud and Dan longs for a bit of peace and quiet. 

Phil pulls out his wallet at the same time as Dan, Phil pulls out a £10 note and places it on the table in between the cups, as Dan opens his mouth to argue, Phil speaks.

“Let me pay. I have to earn your forgiveness somehow.”

“How do you earn something you already have?” Phil’s head snaps up at this. 

“How could you have forgiven me, I destroyed everything.” 

“You did what you thought was best, how can I blame you for that?” Dan realises that he actually means this, he’s not angry, not anymore. 

“I don’t know, but I feel like you should.”

“I don’t.” Dan says, his tone is harsh, as if daring Phil to argue. He doesn’t. 

Phil follows Dan out of the coffee shop onto the streets, the air is warmer than it was earlier, but Dan still shivers. He wraps his coat further around himself. They head down the street together, shoulders bumping occasionally as they talk. 

Without realising it, they end up at the park. Dan sits down at a wooden bench and Phil sits beside him, for a minute, they sit together. Perfectly content in their silence. 

Dan looks up at the clouds and the patches of blue sky peaking through. He thinks about what this means for them, what’s going to change, if anything does. 

Maybe nothing will change, maybe he and Phil will continue to live apart and maybe danisnotonfire and AmazingPhil will never collab again. 

Maybe everything will change. Maybe it would be like it was, with them living together happily. 

Dan finds that perhaps he doesn’t mind how this turns out. He realises that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way about Phil anymore. 

He glances over at Phil, who’s watching a woman and child play with a dog. He looks at the floppy fringe and the bright blue eyes and thinks that maybe what he feels isn’t quite love anymore.

Then Phil smiles sideways at him, aware that Dan is looking at him and Dan’s heart flutters in his chest. 

Maybe he’s still a little bit in love. 

Dan isn’t aware that Phil has moved but then he feels a hand rest on his hand, soft skin and warmth that seems to light a fire somewhere inside of him. He looks down at their joined hands and thinks that maybe one day it will be okay. 

Maybe one day they’ll get their happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to write this so that Dan wasn't in love with phil any more because it gave out the whole message that if someone hurts you dont let them back into your life and although thats a very important message i decided this way was easier to write
> 
> ALSO: might only be a epilogue left are you ready


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been three months.
> 
> But I'm back.
> 
> Enjoy this epilogue

Dan opens his eyes, the smell of cooking food drifts up to his nose as he shuts his eyes again and breathes in deeply, savouring the scent. The bedcovers are warm and soft against his skin and he doesn’t want to move. 

He can hear movement in the kitchen, the open door also allows him to hear a faint singing. Dan smiles as he recognises the song. 

Quietly, he stands, pulling on his pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. Avoiding the creaky areas of floor, he heads to the kitchen, standing just outside the doorway, hidden so that Phil wouldn’t be able to see him. 

The singing continues, quieter this time, Dan steps forward so that he is stood in the door and, with a shaky breath, he joins in.

“I was the king of this hologram, 

where there’s no such thing as getting out of hand” 

Phil turns around and smiles softly at Dan, listening to him sing the lines, before continuing the song together.

“Memories tend to just pop up, 

Drunk pre-meds with some rubber gloves,

Five thousand people with designer drugs,

Don’t think I’ll ever get enough” 

Phil laughs at Dan, watching the way he sings and moves, holding a fork up as if it’s a microphone.   
“Are you going to stop singing and help me cook, or...?” He asks, smirking at the face Dan makes. 

Instead of acting offended, Dan, steps forwards and leans forward so that their foreheads are almost touching and whispers into Phil’s ear.

“How about I do both.” He mutters, leaning in further to gently kiss Phil’s jaw line. Phil shudders under his touch, Dan bites down on his neck and he breathes in sharply. 

Phil pushes Dan away from His neck and presses their lips together in a chaste kiss, Dan tries to deepen it but Phil doesn’t let him. Dan reaches his arm to rest on Phil’s hip as Phil flips the around and presses Dan against the cupboard, lifting him up to sit on the counter. 

Now he deepens the kiss, relishing in the taste of Dan’s mouth. Dan whimpers loudly as Phil bites down on his lower lip. 

Phil presses himself as close to Dan as he possibly can and Dan wonders if they’re actually going to have sex in the kitchen, then – 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The two break away from each other, gasping for air. Phil looks around before glancing back to the now burning bacon in the pan, 

“Daaan” He complains, “you distracted me and I burnt the bacon!” Phil tries to sound angry, forcing a bitter tone into his voice, Dan takes one look at his eyes and laughs. 

“It’s not as if we don’t have any more. I’ll help you cook the next lot.” He compromises, “No distractions this time either.”

~~~

A hour later, they’re sat in the living room together, an episode of Free! playing in the background. Empty plates rest on the coffee table in front of them as Dan sips from a milky cup of coffee. His laptop rests on his legs but he isn’t paying attention to it, he’s more focused on the man sat next to him, blue eyes engrossed in the anime. 

Dan wonders how they got here. From empty houses and crying themselves to sleep to making out in the kitchen and watching anime together. 

A year and one month ago, Dan made the decision to meet Phil in that coffee shop. Seven months ago Phil moved back into their flat. Six months ago, Phil kissed him gently on the lips and asked if Dan was okay with it (Dan never stopped being okay with it). Five months ago they started their joint YouTube channel, DanAndPhilGAMES. 

Dan opens a new tab on his laptop, opening a link to a live subscriber count. Yesterday they had been close to one million subscribers and Dan is curious to know if they hit it overnight. The page seems to take forever to load, but eventually it finishes and Dan can’t believe what he sees. 

[DanAndPhilGAMES 

1,001,730 subscribers]

They did it. They hit it. He’s too much in shock to talk so he just nudges Phil until he responds. Phil doesn’t speak either for a few seconds. Before he looks up and makes eye contact with Dan. 

“We hit one million subscribers.” He mutters finally. 

This shouldn’t be a big deal to either of them, Dan having 5 million+ subscribers and Phil having 4 million+ subscribers.

But there’s something oddly fulfilling about a channel they made together hitting one million subscribers. Especially in such a short time, they only started the channel four months ago. 

It’s a reminder of how far they’ve come. Dan knows that he shouldn’t over think this, but to him it seems a lot like a reminder that everything is back to normal. That their year apart no longer affects them.

Dan knows it isn’t that simple, but it’s still fun to dream. 

He leans over to hug Phil, to celebrate this moment together. It’s calming, but his insides are squirming with excitement, the urge to jump and scream is strong. 

A strong wave of emotion bubbles up inside him, forcing its way out through laughter. He laughs until he can’t breathe, Phil joins in. There’s nothing particularly funny but Dan finds that he can’t stop.

“We’re going to need to film a thank you video, aren’t we?” Phil asks once they’ve calmed down. 

“I guess so, what should we do?” Dan swallows, thinking. Before Phil has the chance to respond, he speaks.

“Just Dance.” He suggests, raising one eyebrow at the same time.

“Just dance?” Phil questions, Dan nods slowly. “As long as you’re buying it then.” 

“Why can’t we split it?” Dan says, pouting slightly, already knowing Phil would contribute to some of the cost.

“It’s your idea.” Phil pokes his tongue out of the side of his mouth.

Dan laughs, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he walks past Phil to the hallway, heading towards their bedroom to get changed. Behind him, he can hear Phil tidying up. 

He wonders when things got so easy between them.

He realises they always had.

Dan pauses for a second, wondering if their channel will ever hit two million subscribers.

~~~

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What? Embarrass myself in front of the world? Nothing I haven’t done before.” Phil laughs.

“Well okay then.” Phil says, stepping forward and pressing record on the camera. 

“Hello DanAndPhilGAMES dancers”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it, huh? 
> 
> its been a long ride. 
> 
> thank you to those who've read this and commented and left kudos it means a lot<3
> 
> I'm not completely happy with this ending so in the future I may come back to it and rewrite it

**Author's Note:**

> woah this hit 4000 views thats so intimidating???!!!! 4000 people read this? (or just clicked on it by mistake lmao)???? im so happy though i dont deserve this thank you all so much i love every single one of you and i am so so thankful <33
> 
> edit march 2017: woah when i was writing this i imagined it set around september/october 2017 and now those times are almost here and im sat here like??? am i gonna need to update the tags??? crikey


End file.
